Meeting The Mage
by TheDoctor36
Summary: In a show of stunningly bad timing, I wrote a Numair Salmalin origin story just before Tamora Pierce publishes her definitive one. This should be canon-compliant, at least for now. Follow Numair's journey from Carthaki Ozorne-lackey to Black Mage of King Jonathan's court and catch up with a few old friends on the way! (Features Alanna, George, and Jon, though they aren't listed.)
1. Chapter One

**Meeting The Mage**

 _Professional Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to _The Song of the Lioness_ trilogy, the _Immortals_ quartet, or any of the characters named therein. I do not own rights to the setting of Tortall or even the general situations surrounding Numair's origins. All of these rights are held by the incomparable Tamora Pierce. I make no money from writing or publishing this story.

 _Personal Disclaimer:_ As you already know if you read the summary, this is just my idea of what happened to get Numair to Tortall and in the situation he was in at the beginning of _Wild Magic_. I grew up with the _Immortals_ series and was very disappointed upon discovering _Song of the Lioness_ that Numair had no part in it. That being said, I know Tamora Pierce is getting ready to publish her own trilogy (!) about Numair and I also want to publicly state that the two previously-mentioned series are the only ones by T.P. that I have read, so I may have missed some details. Anyway, here you go:

* * *

Chapter One

"All of this opulence is disgusting," Alanna complained, throwing her comfortably travel-worn pack onto the lush covers of the feather bed. She scoffed at the soft _ploof_ noise let out as the pack sank into the thick comforter.

"I wouldn't be too sure," her husband said, settling onto the bed with a wide grin. "Makes a nice change. I'm too old to be sleepin' on the ground, darlin'."

"Bite your tongue, George." Alanna set hands on her hips and glared. "All of that nonsense aside, what are we supposed to do? What are we even doing here? Neither of us are diplomats! I'm a knight, and you-"

"And I am the one and only ex-Rogue, and I am tough and realistic enough to take care of both of us in any way necessary." George held up a hand, stifling Alanna's complaints before she could really get going. "I know you're plenty tough and a good bit realistic, but that pesky Oath of Chivalry gives you guidelines for behavior that I know you take seriously. Fortunately, I have no such qualms. In short, I am basically the perfect partner."

Trying not to laugh at his wink and overly-flourishing bow - impressive even while reclining - Alanna crossed her arms. "That doesn't do anything to help us now! We can fight our way out of anything, but that's not what we're supposed to do. Why are we, of all people, the ones who are here?"

George rose from the bed and gripped her shoulders until Alanna fell into an uneasy silence, then smoothed his hands down her arms until he was clasping her small hands in his larger grasp. "We are here, my darlin' Lioness, because your friend King Jonathan trusts you enough to be the one who gets this 'foreign relations' thing off of the ground."

She sighed. "But why us? And why here? I know Jon's always been an ambitious ruler, but why take on our strongest enemy first? Tortall and Carthak have always been enemies. That's not something that can be fixed in one week-long diplomatic mission, even if it somehow is a success."

"If you think about it, his plan does make sense. When you're in a position of uncertain power, you want to make sure that your biggest threat isn't going to come after you while you're dealin' with the little guys. By sendin' us to take care of Carthak first, Jon gets to focus on the other minor enemies without havin' to look over his shoulder all the time."

Alanna grinned and fluttered eyelashes at her husband. "You know I love it when you talk Rogue to me."

"Hush," he returned with a smile. "Go to bed, Alanna. We meet Ozorne in the mornin'."

Rubbing at the knot of nerves that had immediately formed in her stomach, Alanna groaned. "And you just killed any hope I had of getting a good night of sleep."

"It's only a tour of Carthak, darlin'. All we have to do is smile and look interested in whatever the Emperor feels like lettin' us look at."

* * *

It seemed that the first thing Emperor Ozorne wanted them to look at was himself, and rightfully so. The ruler was dazzling in all senses of the word. It seemed every inch of his skin was gilded or encrusted with gems, and when he moved, it was enough to stun the eye momentarily. The Lioness knew from her dealings with royals far more traditional than Jon that it was considered rude to look a king or emperor in the face unless invited to do so. For the first time in her life, Alanna was thankful for this rule. Emperor Ozorne's flashy fashion made it difficult to focus on what one was saying, and she needed to keep her wits about her if she was to do credit to Tortall and its ruler.

At the moment, the Emperor was speaking about his life in Carthak. Arbitrary as the subject seemed, Alanna waited patiently for him to make his point. Important men - and men who thought they were important - always had a point to make. She had no doubt that the entirety of this speech had been scripted to the Emperor's specifications and no responses on her or George's part would make any change to the planned conversation.

"-but We find it to be a rather diverting pastime. You must be sure to visit the training fields while you are here. We are aware that you have seen your fair share of Tortallan facilities, but We are sure you will concede that Carthaki fields are far superior." Alanna gritted her teeth and nodded at this, the tenth such derisive comment he had made during their morning meeting. Honestly, if it hadn't been for George's twinkling hazel eyes, she would never have made it this far without an outburst.

Her gratitude for her husband's presence rapidly disappeared as George cleared his throat. Ignoring Alanna's frantic shaking of her head, he started, "Beggin' your pardon, Majesty, but we were under the impression that we would be escorted around Carthak."

"Of course," Ozorne said smoothly. "But We are singular in Our resolve to become more than a simple Emperor. We have decided to train as a mage as well, through Our most prestigious academy. We find Ourselves to be oftentimes devoted to Our studies, and thus have decided to assign you alternate guides around Our fair capital."

"That sounds wonderful, Emperor Ozorne," Alanna said, profoundly grateful that their week in Carthak wouldn't be spent entirely in the imposing man's presence.

"Indeed. As your guides, We have to chosen two of the most promising students in Our academy. Both have spent copious amounts of time exploring Carthak and should prove capable of showing you the fascinating and beautiful parts of Our city. If they should become unequal to the task, We beg that you should inform Us during Our nightly dinners, during which We shall also expand upon what you have explored that day and offer Our own humble suggestions for activities to be performed on the following days. We trust that shall prove satisfactory."

George and Alanna nodded to this, not seeing it for the dismissal it was until Emperor Ozorne beckoned toward the guards posted at the doors. "Guards, you may now show Lady Alanna and Baron Cooper to their guides."

Surrounded by guards as they were, Alanna and George didn't have the privacy to communicate with each other as freely as they would wish, but they did manage a shared glance, one filled with disdain for Ozorne, trepidation for what was to come, and a new appreciation for King Jonathan and his fairly lax court.

The couple was escorted into the grand and imposing hall containing the main gates to the palace. Amid the shining floors and painting-bedecked walls stood two young men. To Alanna's amused observation, they seemed to be complete opposites. One young man stood in the palace as though it were his proper right to be there. He was drawn up to his rather unimpressive height, elegantly simple clothes neatly smoothed over his athletic frame. His trimmed golden-brown hair was combed carefully away from his face, exposing eyes that had a disconcerting air of calculation. Alanna disliked him immediately.

On the other hand, his partner stood fidgeting uncomfortably while he waited for the guards to escort Alanna and George to the spot where he waited. His black hair was longer and Alanna would have bet her last copper that the unruly locks hadn't seen a comb in a week. He was tall, almost incredibly so, though his frame was awkwardly hunched so that his height wasn't immediately noticeable. There was a hint of stubble across his cheeks and chin, complementing his rumpled and slightly mismatched clothes. All of this was more to Alanna's liking than the other man's practiced perfection, but this one's face, however, was what made her sure they could be friends. This man's eyes… They were dark and studious, careful and curious. They were the eyes of someone who would spend more time thinking and reflecting than speaking of his own opinions. They almost reminded her of George's hazel gaze in their openness - _though Goddess help him if they share more than that,_ she thought with some amusement.

"Greetings!" the lighter-haired man said joyously, stepping forward to meet the visiting pair. "And welcome to the wondrous courts of Emperor Ozorne! I am Tristan Staghorn, and it will be my pleasure to guide you around Carthak this week. It is an honor to meet you, Lady and Baron. This is my partner, who will also be accompanying us around the city."

He elbowed the taller man rather harder than Alanna thought necessary, and he muttered something she didn't quite catch. "Louder, Draper," Tristan said with a derisive laugh. "They need to know your name, common though it is."

"Please forgive me," the man apologized, soft voice warm with the same welcome that showed in his eyes. "I am Arram Draper."

George clapped him on the back as Alanna shook his hand. "It's a real pleasure to meet you, Arram."

Alanna nodded. "And a fine name you have, sir, a fine name indeed." This was said with a bit of a glare in Tristan's direction, who looked shocked that these 'nobles' didn't share his disdain of the lower classes.

"Thank you," Arram said politely. "If you two are ready now, I believe that the Emperor and Tristan have quite the day planned."

With that graceful gesture, Tristan seemed to have regained his confidence and launched into the tour with gusto. Today, as he explained, they would take advantage of the warm weather and tour the riverside docks and markets of Carthak. With another sidelong glance, George warned Alanna to be watchful. The Carthaki docks were rumored to be extraordinarily dangerous for those without an accompaniment of armed guards. The Lioness nodded to her husband. She had brought a small, carefully-sharpened dagger along with her and it was cunningly concealed among the folds of her belted tunic.

Fortunately, there seemed no need for the Tortallans to defend themselves. There were robbers, thieves, and would-be criminals of all kinds lurking around the docks, easily recognized by Alanna and George - they had, after all, spent more than enough time around such people - but they were never bothered. If she had to hazard a guess, the Lioness would say that the criminals of Carthak knew better than to try attacking the guests of the Emperor.

In fact, there had only been a single time Alanna had needed to reach for the dagger. She and George had stepped away while Tristan and Arram attempted to bargain passage onto a surveyor's boat for the afternoon. In a short period of time, the couple had found themselves surrounded by a number of unsavory-looking characters.

"Who d'ya think these folks might be?"

"Dunno, but they don't look Carthaki to me."

"Reckon they might be tourists?"

"S'possible. Also possible they ain't paid their tourism taxes yet."

"Mmm. That ain't good. Gotta get them taxes paid or bad stuff happens."

"Say, oughtn't we do 'em a favor an' collect what's due? Wouldn't want 'em to be in danger longer'n they has to."

"Now, now, boys," George drawled, stepping between his wife and most of the men. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of understandin'."

"Sure we can," the apparent leader of the group said agreeably. "Just turn over your belongin's to me an' my boys and we leave you two alone…" He trailed off, eyeing Alanna speculatively. "At leas', we leave you alone."

George laughed. "Honestly, fellas. You would have been better off trying to kill us both rather than single out this woman."

Alanna took advantage of the cover George was providing to unsheathe her dagger, but she was stopped by a new voice. "Surely the leader of the Carthaki Vipers is clever enough to avoid tangling with the Lioness herself."

The man turned, greeting the newcomer in a flat voice, "Draper. What d'ya think you're gonna do to keep these strangers safe?"

"Ordinarily, I would do everything I usually do to keep strangers safe, but in this circumstance, there is no need. These two are Baron George Cooper and Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, and they are to be considered personal guests of Emperor Ozorne for the duration of their diplomatic mission." One corner of Arram's wide mouth lifted in a half-smirk. "Surely you don't mean to disobey the orders of the Emperor himself?"

The leader spat on the ground and scowled at Arram. "Jus' wait until you're somewhere what you shouldn't be, then you'll be sorry right quick."

"Very well," Arram agreed. "But for the time being, I need these two to come with me."

"And? What're you waitin' for?" With a short, sharp whistle, the men surrounding the three pulled back and melted into the shadows. The leader lingered until last, and blew a kiss to Alanna. "I'll be catchin' up with you real soon, darlin'."

Alanna wouldn't have said anything, but George had proven to have a temper to equal her own under the right circumstances. At the sound of his endearment oozing from between the lips of another man, George's eyes flashed an irritated hazel. In a smooth motion, he had bent and picked up the head of a hammer that had been discarded in the street. In a moment, he had turned, aimed, and thrown the hammer's head as powerfully as possible. It hit where George had been aiming, if the smug look on his face was anything to go by, and the man's hand crumpled into a painfully unnatural position.

The man screamed and - grasping his clearly-broken hand - disappeared to wherever the rest of his group had gone, leaving Alanna and George to eye Arram questioningly. The tall man's tanned skin flushed slightly darker under their studying gazes. "Well, Arram… If I didn't know better, I would say you've encountered those men before."

Arram gave a shrug that was a little to casual to the trained eyes of his audience. "I'm not unfamiliar with them. I've been at the university for a long while and I like to wander the streets while I think. Unfortunately, that man likes to torment those who are weaker than himself, but on the far luckier side, I am not one of them. I have the power to defend myself and others if necessary, and do so on a semi-regular basis."

"What's that one's name?" George asked curiously, but Arram just shrugged again.

"I can't say that I've ever asked. Normally, we're far too busy trading blows and spells to ask many personal questions."

Alanna nodded understandingly. Familiar enemies were a disturbingly large part of her life. Arram shifted uncomfortably. "We had better be getting back to Tristan. He has managed to secure an afternoon tour of Carthak from the water and we must leave shortly if we are to return in time to have dinner with the Emperor."

* * *

Stifling a groan, Alanna rolled out of bed. If any of her old instructors could hear her complaining, especially after sleeping several hours on a soft bed, she would be guaranteed to do extra chores for at least a week. Try as she might, though, the knight found it nearly impossible not to complain. She and George were most of the way through their week of seeing the sights of Carthak and they were no closer to making any progress with the emperor. It was frustrating to her, especially considering her lack of diplomatic inclination.

They had seen a majority of the city. The group visited the training facilities, toured the palace, and thoroughly explored the university. This last was by far the most interesting day for Alanna and George. The two had discussed - in that odd way that couples discuss nearly everything - the relationship between Tristan and Arram. They had been angry for the young man. At first glance, Tristan and Arram seemed to have a friendship, though it was very aggressive and mostly toward Arram. The dark-haired man accepted the insults gracefully, despite how intense they got, but Alanna and George believed they figured out the source of the man's peace.

It had happened while they were touring the university. Tristan had glossed over a lot of the things anyone else would be interested in so that he could showcase his own work in the Department of War Magic. George, with his background in guerilla-style techniques, had been less-than impressed, but Alanna could appreciate the more complicated forms of battling that Tristan and his colleagues were creating. Her formidable mind immediately began working on ways to combat the innovative means of fighting, but Tristan seemed to notice her processing and steadily began to lower the number of details he was providing the Tortallans.

When they had finally left the Department of War Magic, Tristan had attempted to skip over Arram's work - somewhat easy to do, as Arram didn't work in any singular department - but George had asked outright where they could view some of his contributions. After a bit of persuading, Arram had led them to a display about agriculture.

"This is interesting," Alanna had mused, studying the clever use of multiple levels of land to increase an area's growing space. "How long did it take for you and your team to come up with it?"

Arram had blushed and reluctantly admitted, "It was only me, I'm afraid. I worked on this theory for only a few days, but it made quite the impression in the farming community."

"Oh, yes, quite a difficult feat," Tristan scoffed. "As if it takes anything more than two large words strung together to impress a farmer."

Eyeing Tristan levelly, Arram returned, "I wouldn't suggest telling them so, Tristan. In my studies of Carthaki agriculture, I've gained a profound respect for what these men and women do to provide this kingdom with food, and any way in which I can help them is a worthwhile investment of time and energy."

"So you can really grow more with that setup?" George asked, gesturing at the display.

"Most certainly. The variety of levels allows for a variety of crops to be grown in one small space, each with its own needs for sunlight, water, and temperature seen to individually. There can only be as much variance in these factors as there is in the environment in which they are to be grown, but with the addition of weather mages, so much more would be possible!"

"Weather mages? I'm sorry, I don't believe I follow," Alanna said apologetically, though she couldn't help but grin at Arram's enthusiasm and Tristan's sour expression.

Arram was nodding excitedly. "I have worked out the potential and if the Emperor could be persuaded to spare only a handful of weather mages to help with the agricultural fields, a plethora of flora could be produced here, some of which have never been grown in this country! To my way of thinking, growing food that will feed an entire country should have some significance above preparing for a war that could easily never happen. All respect to present company, of course," he added with a shallow bow in Tristan's direction.

The man was smiling unpleasantly. "Ah, my friend, perhaps I am not the one to whom you should be apologizing. I am sure the Lioness feels far differently than you about the merits of agriculture over war."

"As it happens," Alanna cut in sharply, "I agree with Arram about agriculture bearing the greater importance. Several of my friends fight beside me when necessary, but nearly everyone I know and love needs food to survive."

Tristan gave a tight smile and rapidly led the group from the area without responding. They weren't able to see any more of Arram's work during the day touring the university, but the bit of innovation they had seen was enough to convince them of one thing: despite Tristan's own considerable mind, Arram was the far more gifted of the two, and both were aware of this.

That was all yesterday, of course. Today, they had a somewhat pleasant day planned: a day exploring the markets of Carthak. Unfortunately, to beat the heat of the day, the markets opened roughly an hour before the sun rose and Alanna and George rose quite literally in the middle of the night. This being so, both were surprised to hear raised voices floating down the hallway and quickly decided to investigate.

"I know what the Emperor wants!" a now- familiar voice was shouting heatedly. "But he doesn't understand! These two are not nobles as he seems to believe them. They are far more similar to Carthaki commoners and undeserving of the treatment he insists on bestowing!"

A harsh female voice cut through Tristan's tirade. "Do you presume to know more than the emperor?"

Tristan let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course not, Gissa. But I do believe it best that a different guide be chosen." He snorted. "They seem to approve of Draper and he certainly returns the feeling. Allow him to tour them around by himself."

Whoever Gissa was, she sounded completely exasperated. "You of all people know why Arram Draper's contact with the Tortallans must be limited, especially without the supervision of one whose loyalty to the Emperor cannot be debated."

As Tristan reluctantly agreed to this, Alanna signaled George to slowly back away with her. When the two were at a safe distance, they began a hurried conversation in low whispers.

"Do you have any idea what their trouble with Arram is?" George asked.

"Not at all," she muttered back. "Jon didn't tell me anything about this. I mean, we hadn't met Arram before coming here, so why would they want to keep him from talking to us?"

"I can only think of a few possible reasons," George murmured thoughtfully, "and all of them bear further investigation. I believe it's time for us to take this situation into our own hands and stop bein' such well-behaved guests of the Emperor."

"What does that mean?" Alanna hissed, slightly concerned. The worried feelings only grew as she watched her husband turn back and stride casually into the room where they had planned to meet their guides before leaving for the day, the same room which now held Tristan and Gissa.

George gave a loud greeting. "Good mornin', all! I hope you slept half as well as I did." Alanna skidded into the room just in time to see the alarm on both mages' faces, but George didn't let on that the Tortallans noticed their nervousness.

"Tristan, I hope I can talk with you about somethin' that's been botherin' me," George started off seriously. Tristan's eyes widened as his face grew pale. "Maybe it would be better if we had only one guide today."

"Wh- What?" Tristan stammered.

George gave a wonderfully casual shrug. "I mean, if the markets here are anythin' like the ones back home, they'll be crowded like you wouldn't believe. I think we would have an easier time gettin' where we need to go if we had a smaller group than we have in the past. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Gissa said smoothly. "I will send a messenger to Arram right away and tell him that his presence is no longer required."

"Oh, there's no need," Alanna interrupted. "I think it would be better for everyone if Arram was to be our guide for the day rather than Tristan."

Gaze shooting daggers at the man, Gissa asked, "Have you found Tristan to be unsatisfactory, my Lady?"

"No. On the contrary, he's been remarkable, practically giving the tour on his own. George and I thought it would be best for him to have a day to relax and recover while we see the sights with Arram."

"That really isn't-" Gissa started.

At the same time, Tristan was saying, "Surely you would rather have someone-"

"We insist," George said firmly, speaking loudly enough to be heard over their protests.

Apparently realizing that they couldn't refuse this without seeming suspicious, Tristan and Gissa reluctantly agreed just as Arram arrived for the day. The tall mage wandered in, oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air, and calmly asked if the Tortallans were ready to go. Gissa briefed him on the slight change in plans and their newly-decreased group was off to the markets of Carthak.

Arram didn't seem at all doubtful of their vague explanation for leaving Tristan behind, instead telling the two Tortallans that the trek to the markets would be a rather lengthy one as they were located a fair distance away. "Ozorne probably doesn't want any commoners clogging the streets in front of his palace," Alanna theorized in a whisper to George, who smirked in agreement.

The two had decided before Arram arrived that they would spend their walk trying to get information from him. They needed to ask subtle questions, find out if Arram was indeed a traitor to the Emperor and, if so, who he was actually working for. There was only one problem: Arram wasn't responding to any of it. George and Alanna had been subtly probing for nearly half an hour in their attempt to discover Arram's secrets, and it was getting them nowhere. Worse, they were nearly out of time. They were approaching the markets quickly, and the streets would be too crowded on the way back for the group to attempt any kind of private conversation.

Finally, Alanna and George dropped a little behind their lanky guide. "This isn't working," Alanna hissed. "Nothing we do is getting any kind of a response."

With a gleam in his eye, George nodded. "Then maybe it's time for us to force a response from him."

"George? George!" Alanna jogged to catch up with George's long strides, but he was already walking beside Arram by the time she arrived.

"So, Arram, I heard you're a traitor to the Emperor."

If Alanna was shocked by George's casual tone, it was nothing compared to Arram's expression as he processed the blunt question. His tanned face went pallid, his eyes grew incredibly wide, and he began visibly shaking. "I- Wh- I am not a traitor! I've been nothing but loyal to Emperor Ozorne, who has been one of my closest friends all my life! Who would say such a thing, and especially to two visiting dignitaries?"

"Calm down," Alanna soothed, glaring at her husband. "No one in particular said that you were a traitor, but we did overhear something… odd... this morning between Tristan and Gissa." She went on to explain what they had heard, but Arram couldn't explain the conversation, either.

"You're sure it was Gissa and Tristan?" They replied in the affirmative and Arram frowned. "I must confess that I don't know what they're talking about. I've never given any impression of being disloyal - at least, not to my knowledge." He raked a hand through his hair. "There are times I disagree with the Emperor, of course. Everyone disagrees with everyone eventually, but I've always been honest with Emperor Ozorne and made my case with him personally."

"Wouldn't that give an impression of bein' disloyal?" George asked, but Arram shook his head.

"If I'm disagreeing with the Emperor to his face, that wouldn't give me a very good motive to sneak around and betray him. I wouldn't worry about it too much, except… Well, people who are suspected of treason, especially against the Emperor himself, tend to disappear."

Alanna couldn't see her reflection, but she felt her face harden into a fierce expression. "You aren't going to disappear, Arram. At least, not as long as we're around." She couldn't explain how the Carthaki scholar had grown to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time, but he had, and she would go far to protect him.

One corner of Arram's mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "That's very kind of you, Lioness, but you and the Baron won't be in Carthak much longer." Growing serious once more, he said, "When we get back to the palace, I'll do some digging and see what I can find out about all of this. There has to be an explanation, and a solution is sure to follow."

Having settled the situation, at least in Arram's mind, the mood of the group lightened considerably. A small, not-very-secret part of Alanna had always loved markets. Not necessarily for buying anything, but simply for the incredible amount of life they managed to pack into a small area. The colors, the sounds, the smells… They made life brighter, even in a place the Tortallans tended to associate with war and danger.

As they walked around the market, the trio kept up a lively conversation, laughing back and forth at jokes or having friendly debates. Alanna stopped at a vendor selling a crop of particularly large sunflowers. "Were these grown using weather mages, do you think?"

Arram raised a brow, studying the plants. "I don't believe so. With all of their colors and scents, flowers are trickier to grow than edible crops. I'm surprised you don't know that already."

She scowled up at him. "Believe it or not, we were so busy learning to use swords and ride horses that they must have completely forgotten to cover magical flower-growing in my classes. I should complain to the king, really."

"I knew that you didn't attend an academically-focused school, but I heard that your brother did. I'm surprised you aren't working more closely with them. I'm sure they would love to have the Lioness on board with some of the research they're undertaking, especially at the City of the Gods."

George laughed. "I don't think the university at the City of the Gods is going to be askin' my Alanna for anythin' else anytime soon."

"Wait, what?" Arram looked back and forth between Alanna and George. "There's a story here, and I must insist on finding out what it might be."

Alanna sighed irritatedly, but George could see the small smile playing around the corners of her mouth and leaned toward Arram conspiratorially. "Well, you see, a few months ago, the school was lookin' for support - financial support, you know." Arram nodded understandingly and George went on. "We got a couple of letters askin' for donations and such, but didn't pay much attention. She's got a lot goin' on at any time, so-"

Giving up all pretense of not listening, Alanna snapped, "Get on with it, George!"

Grinning obligingly, George said, "Eventually, Alanna got a personalized letter… and it was from someone tryin' their level best to guilt her into donatin' because she was guilty about what happened with Thom, bless his soul."

Arram gave a soft whistle. "That's disgraceful. Did she fall for it?"

"She most certainly did not," Alanna answered tartly. "In fact, George and I took a short journey so that I could express my… _displeasure_ in person."

"I take it you've had no problems since then?" Arram asked with a grin.

"Not a one. Strange, ain't it?" George gave a conspiratorial wink as they all chuckled appreciatively.

* * *

Hours later, Alanna and George were enjoying their second-to-last night in Carthak. Well, 'enjoying' might be a strong word for the Lioness reluctantly admitting that Carthak wasn't completely terrible, but in all fairness, it had taken nearly thirty minutes of convincing by George to even get that concession.

Tragically, his gloating session was interrupted by a furtive knock on the door. Happy for the break, Alanna opened the door and was immediately thrown into a battle stance as someone tried to push into the room. A startled Arram was staring up at her from the floor, expression half-worried and half-laughing. "I need to speak with you," he whispered loudly. "It's a matter both urgent and private."

Alanna helped the tall man up and into the room, closing the door securely behind him. "George," Arram started. "I need-"

"To speak with us. Yeah, I heard. You've gotta be one of the worst people I've ever met for subtlety, and that includes my lovely wife."

Alanna glared at him before addressing Arram. "What did you need? If security is an issue, we need to be as quick as possible."

"Indeed," Arram agreed. "You two need to leave Carthak. Tonight."

The Tortallan couple stared at him blankly and the mage made a sound of pure frustration. "Did you hear me? Start packing and I'll explain while we work." With that, he grabbed the nearest pack and began stuffing random articles into it. Eventually, Alanna and George followed suit, albeit a little more neatly.

"When we returned to the palace this afternoon, I started my investigation into the accusations of my disloyalty, as I said I would. It was only a handful of hours ago that I began to receive information of the gravest sort: Emperor Ozorne is plotting against you. He's been drugging your drinks every night at dinner, watching to be sure that you consume them completely. The enchantment is a slow build, one which grows stronger with the length of exposure, and by tomorrow night's last dose, you would fall almost completely under its power.

"Ozorne wants the Yamani Pearls, a set of islands in the Emerald Ocean just south of Yamani. As of right now, they are under Tortallan control, but if their ownership were to be transferred to Carthak, they would make an excellent vantage point to deploy armies against your country. From all the intelligence I was able to gather, the enchantment would be set tomorrow night, and would force you to convince your king that the islands be given to Carthak as a sort of gesture toward peace between our countries."

He stopped his frantic packing and stared at Alanna and George, dark eyes serious. "You would be compelled to use any means necessary to convince him, up to and including regicide."

"And if we refused?"

"Any assertion of personal will is exceedingly rare, but if you did manage to retain your sense of morals well enough to refuse to do as he asked, the Emperor would likely have you both executed."

Alanna's mouth went dry. "I thank you for bringing us this information. Doesn't this put you terribly at risk of Ozorne's fury?"

Arram shrugged. "Perhaps, but it is what is right. I can do nothing else. Besides, my sources are well used to the need for secrecy. With any luck, I can evade notice by the Emperor when he begins searching for the reason you two disappeared so suddenly."

George finished the last pack and began slinging them across his shoulders. Alanna joined in and Arram pressed a small, jingling bag into her hand. "For your travels. I have set you passage back to the Inland Sea, though you may have to bribe the captain once more for his silence. I also managed to gather a few leads for ships that might carry you back to Tortall, even if the Emperor begins a public search for you two. I am sorry that I cannot do more, but we are so pressed for time…"

"Arram, we sincerely thank you," George said, shaking the younger man's hand. "I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here, but it wouldn't have been good."

Alanna shook his hand as well. "If you ever decide to leave Carthak, you would be more than welcome in Tortall. I'm sure the king would offer his protection and we would give you a place to live."

Smiling fondly, Arram shook his head. "I thank you for the offer. It is most gracious, but I have only a few months of school to finish before I am done. If I leave now, I will lose everything. Besides, I am under no real suspicion. When Tristan and Gissa said my loyalty was doubted, it was only because I wasn't part of the planning group."

While they talked, the group had steadily moved toward the door of Alanna and George's quarters. Arram studied it for a moment. "Once we leave this room, we cannot speak. We don't have to keep completely silent, but make as little noise as possible and I should be able to shield you long after we leave. I'll guide you to the riverboat port and then I'll have to leave you. It has truly been a pleasure."

The sentiment was returned from both of the Tortallans and the small group began making their careful way out of the palace of the soon-to-be Emperor Mage.

* * *

Author's Note \- As a final announcement, I would like to say that this is Chapter One of my three-part Numair origin story. The following two chapters have already been written and will be posted tomorrow and Friday. Thank you so much for reading! I would truly love to hear any feedback you're comfortable giving and I hope you have a wonderful day!


	2. Chapter Two

**Meeting The Mage**

 _Disclaimer:_ I own nothing. It's all the property of Tamora Pierce.

* * *

Chapter Two

"I am pleased to say that nothing unpleasant came of your sudden departure from Carthak," Jon announced, seated comfortably behind a large desk. Alanna and George began to relax, though only slightly. Even in their admittedly-brief experience, they knew that Emperor Ozorne wasn't one to let things like escaping dignitaries happen without reacting in some way.

When they had arrived back in Tortall, Jon had been understandably panicked. Tortall's army - while passable and easily prepared for war - would take a negligible amount time before they were ready to stand against the massive forces of Carthak. Unfortunately, the unannounced departure of foreign dignitaries was considered a serious breach of etiquette, especially when said dignitaries were being hosted by the Emperor Himself. In short, Ozorne had the very pronounced upper hand, and they all knew it.

Unexpectedly, it was the glowingly-pregnant Thayet who came up with the solution: "Just write to the Emperor and tell him that there was an emergency. You had no choice but to send for your two most trusted advisors and they were forced to leave immediately. In the panic of solidifying the details, they forgot to leave a message for their gracious host and remembered only when they returned to Tortall."

"We forgot?" George had asked skeptically. "Doesn't that sound a little far-fetched?"

"Your only other option is to claim that you left a note to be delivered by a servant, but that option - especially with a man like Ozorne - is more likely to get an innocent servant killed." Thayet's tone was so matter-of-fact that everyone remembered she had been raised to handle situations like this.

"But won't it seem suspicious? I mean, if this emergency was bad enough that he needed us for it, why would he risk sending us to Carthak in the first place?" It wasn't that Alanna didn't trust Thayet. She just wanted to be sure all details were considered.

"By needing the only two sent away on a diplomatic mission, Jon is giving the impression that he has only a few advisors. For a ruler, especially of a nation which considers itself to be the equal of Carthak, this would be an embarrassing detail. As Tortall wouldn't want to look needlessly weak, it will convince Ozorne that this is a shamefully-admitted secret, and he won't doubt the story, no matter how many other gaps he may discover. He'll be far too focused on the humiliation of Tortall's leader."

"'Humiliation' might be a rather strong term…" Jon trailed, looking uncomfortable, but Thayet laughed.

"Oh, if half of the stories about the Emperor Mage are true, Ozorne will make this extremely unpleasant for all involved. He'll gloat, and he'll scoff, and it will be painful, but not so painful as a war would be."

Reluctantly following her advice, King Jonathan wrote to the Emperor immediately and - judging by the ornate envelope he currently held - had received a reply. As Alanna and George sat in his office like nervous schoolchildren, he read the missive aloud:

Jonathan IV of Conté, King of Tortall,

We were much disturbed to hear your tale of troubles which required the immediate departure of Ambassadors George and Alanna from Our royal accommodations. Carthak has been blessed to enjoy a peace of nearly one-hundred years, and disputes such as you have described are so far removed from us so as to be nearly beyond memory.

We wish you a rapid recovery from such trials and hope that you may soon experience the same peace currently bestowed upon Carthak.

Many Blessings,

Ozorne Muhassin Tasikhe, Emperor of Carthak

"You can say a lot about Thayet, but when she said that Ozorne was going to make it painful, she wasn't exaggerating." Alanna's comment fell into a room filled with thick silence, broken only by the slight rustling noises given off as Jon tucked the letter back into its envelope.

When he had finally finished, Jon steepled his fingers and gave a slight sigh. "Ozorne may have been pompous, but the overall tone was sympathetic and he made no mention of our breach of the rules. Hopefully, we will not have hostilities." He smiled wanly at the couple. "Crisis averted. Well, this particular crisis, at least."

"What is our next move, Jon?" George asked.

The king rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Now, we lay low, build our armies, and pray that Ozorne doesn't decide that his pride was hurt after all." He fixed the two with a firm stare. "Didn't you two tell me that one of the Carthaki students was responsible for helping you escape the country?"

"Yes, his name was Arram Draper." There was a tightness in Alanna's voice, noticeable even when she spoke so quietly.

"Have you heard anything from him?" Jon asked gently.

George shook his head, relaxed demeanor betrayed by the tension in his hands. "No, but I don't expect we will either. He was clear about wantin' to finish up his school in Carthak and when he's done, he's smarter than to try to contact us. Carthak will be watchin' Alanna and I for years to come, if I know the dealin's of political power." He added a polite nod to Jon as he said this.

Trying very hard not to look offended, the king said, "Very well. Let's hope he's as intelligent as you describe. He'll likely need his wits about him. In any case, I have no further need for the two of you, at least for the night. Feel free to return to your quarters whenever you choose."

Alanna and George stood at the clear dismissal, George giving a deep incline of the head while Alanna tried very hard not to sound sarcastic as she said, "Majesty."

The walk to their chambers in the palace was a quiet one. Both George and Alanna would have preferred to stay somewhere a bit further away, but George still had far too many enemies at large for that to be considered safe. Faced with a lack of alternatives, Jon had offered to give them a space in the palace, one which could be used whenever the couple was called to Corus for a meeting with the king.

When the couple walked through the door leading to their rooms, George cleared his throat, taking Alanna's hands into his own when she turned around. "Alanna, I know your mind in workin' away at somethin'. You're never quiet for this long unless you're churnin' on somethin' or another."

The Lioness, the strong, fearless warrior of Tortallan legend, ducked her head to hide from George's studying gaze. "I can't- I can't help wondering about Arram. Do you think he's okay?" She laughed mirthlessly. "Do you think he's even alive?"

George stared at her, utterly taken aback. "'Course I think he's alive, darlin'. Why would you even think anythin' else?"

"Maybe because Ozorne is a monster? I just really _hate_ this! I've never had to wonder if someone is alive or not, and it's likely we'll never know. We can't ask about him without putting him into danger if he isn't suspected. If he was caught and we ask, we endanger all of Tortall. I hate it, George. I _hate_ it!"

"I know, I know," he soothed, pulling her against his chest. "But think about the boy- really think. Maybe it's just me, but I'm of the opinion that one could outsmart anyone who tried anythin' against him." Inch by inch, he felt Alanna begin to relax against him, and they stood in their rooms for a long time, embracing in silence.

* * *

 _A barred window._

 _A rush of wings._

 _A flurry of ecstatic movement._

 _A burst of freedom_

 _A heart-pounding meeting with the only loyal friend he still had._

 _A sack of coins pressed into a man's hand in exchange for passage on a boat._

Arram sat upright, nearly hitting his forehead against the low ceiling just above where he lay. Careful not to move the swinging hammock too much, he slid carefully down, past the two exhausted sailors sleeping just inches beneath him.

Feeling slightly more at-ease resting on the floor of the crew's quarters, Arram sucked in as much air as he could hold. It was hardly pleasant air, hot and stagnant, scented with salt and the stink of multiple unwashed men in an enclosed space. Even with all of this, Arram would prefer this moment and all of its facets over a single moment in the dungeons of Emperor Ozorne. That air, light and cool, pleasantly scented with a manufactured smoke that kept the prisoners from struggling. Shuddering slightly at the memory, Arram took another breath in the stuffy room, savoring it.

Now that he had calmed, Arram could turn his mind to more current matters: Lindhall was a wonderful friend, and Arram owed him everything, but even the easy-to-trust scientist had only been able to smuggle out a small amount of Arram's savings before the escaped prisoner had to make his next move, and what an expensive move it had been. With an active hunt going on for him, Arram had found that any ship willing to take him across the Inland Sea to Tortall was going to cost nearly all of his precious savings. Keeping back only enough for a handful of meals, Arram had surrendered the rest of the bag to the ship's captain and now found himself without nearly as much money as it would take to travel to Corus.

He would have to improvise.

* * *

With a heavy, only-slightly irritated sigh, Alanna dropped down into a chair in the king's office. It had been nearly a year since Alanna and George had rushed back from Carthak and yet not a thing had changed, in this office at least. The desk was the same heavy, dark-stained oak monstrosity that had been sitting in this office since the days of Jon's father, perhaps even longer. It was too large for the room, really, but it was tradition by now. Ornate and stately, despite being scarred by marks of the king's frustrations or habits, the desk had marked every interaction Alanna had ever had with the reigning king.

She was staring at it now, watching Jon's fingers drumming on the scuffed up surface as he obviously mused over a problem. Alanna waited impatiently for her friend to think of a way to begin. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Jon, what's this all about? You know the ride from Pirate's Swoop takes a full two days. If you brought us here for nothing-"

"Emperor Ozorne is making moves against the Yamani Pearls. Wherever your Carthaki friend got his intelligence, it must have been a credible source."

George puffed out a breath. "Well, what does that mean for Tortall? Are you goin' to mobilize the troops against Carthak or whatever?"

Jon pulled a hand down his stubble-covered cheeks. "That is the problem. Ozorne isn't going about it straightforwardly. Technically, the Pearls have received a threat of takeover from Rhaemin, a country to the north of the Yamani Islands. During their recent civil war, it's highly-suspected that Ozorne manipulated himself into a place of power in their government, so in reality, it's likely that Rhaemin is only moving against Yamani because Ozorne ordered them to. And since Rhaemin is such a large distance away, it would be highly difficult - or even impossible - for Tortall to wage a war. We can't exactly camp out on the Pearls since our armies require such a large amount of supplies and we have no projection of when Rhaemin would make their first move."

Alanna groaned. "So, basically, political red tape all over the place. Why are you talking to us and not your group of political advisors?"

"They would urge that we make peace with Carthak and ally ourselves with Rhaemin. In fact, they would probably suggest that we make a gift of the Yamani Pearls to either country," he complained with an eye roll. He leaned forward, gaze sharp. "I need two people who are ruthless enough to advise me on what needs to be done for our country and not to cement their own political careers."

George raked a hand through his shaggy hair. "Jon, no disrespect, but we both know you need to ask someone else. If Tortall goes to war, it needs to be on better advice than me and Alanna's."

"So you think we should go to war?" Jon asked, ignoring the rest of his statement.

"Jon," Alanna said sharply, "You know that isn't what he's saying! You always hear just what you want without stopping to-" Thankfully, before she could begin lecturing him in earnest, a knock sounded on the door.

Eager to dispel some of the tension, George leapt up and pulled the door open. One of the guards stood at the doorway, carefully not making eye contact with anyone in the office. "Your Majesty, I have been asked to inform you that there is a street performer at the gates."

Jon looked intrigued. "And he requests to speak with me or he just wants money?"

"Neither, sire," the guard said, looking steadily more nervous. "The man wishes to speak with the Baron and the Lady Knight."

Alanna stood, frowning fiercely. "How did he know that we were here?"

"We weren't exactly hidin' when we rode up," George reasoned, but she waved him off.

"Yes, but we still shouldn't have attracted much notice, not enough that street performers should be requesting us by name, anyway. Did he say anything else?" she asked the guard.

The man shook his head. "No, Lady Alanna. He would only say that he was told to come to the palace if he ever had to leave his city. The man also said that would be enough if he was in the right place."

"Alanna," George said severely.

She turned to stare at him. "What, George? I heard the man just as well as-" She cut herself off as the guard's words sank in. "Arram. It has to be Arram, doesn't it?"

"It has to be Arram," he confirmed.

In tandem, the couple turned back to Jon where he still stood behind the desk. "You have to let him in."

With a warning look on his face at their overly-familiar attitude in front of his staff, Jon sat down once more and waved an imperious hand toward the guard. "Allow the performer to come inside. Bring him directly here, to me. You are dismissed."

The guard nodded once and left, stepping quickly to fulfill his king's request. Alanna glowered at her old friend. "You know I hate when you pull the 'lordly king' act."

Jon glared right back. "You know I hate when you speak impetuously enough to make me. I'm still trying to teach these people that I am king, and that I am not going to be the pushover that my father was."

"Everyone loved your father! More importantly, I happen to know for a fact that Thayet hates the king act even more than I do," she made a face at Jon, but her heart wasn't in it. Right now, she was just trying to stave off the anxiety and anticipation of being about to know whether her friend was safe.

When the door opened once more, she and George both tensed, but Alanna couldn't recognize the man being escorted inside. While Jon dismissed the guard back to his post, she studied the stranger. Black hair tumbled down from his head to mingle with his generously-bushy black beard, concealing a full half of his swarthy face, though a rather large nose still managed to make its presence known. In a moment, however, his eyes met hers and Alanna's apprehension disappeared. She would recognize those dark, sharply-intelligent eyes anywhere.

"Arram!" she cried, pulling him into a rare hug. George was right there beside her, clapping him soundly on the back as they both repeated their relief that he was all right. When things had finally calmed down, Jon cordially invited them all to take a seat so that they could have a much-needed discussion.

"Arram Draper," he started off in his most serious tones. "Before anything else is said, I would like to thank you. These two are not only valued members of my court, but also my close personal friends. Their loss would have been detrimental to me as a person, so for saving their lives, not to mention mine and the fate of our country, I give you my sincerest thanks."

Even beneath the beard, the tan, and the layer of dirt on Arram's face, Alanna could see that the man was blushing. He still managed to keep his dignity however, responding with a gracious, "The honor was mine, Majesty. To hear of these two doing such terrible things as Ozorne had planned would have been a travesty of the gravest nature. I merely did what any concerned citizen should have done."

"Nevertheless, it was an act of extreme bravery and selflessness, and I commend you for it. Now, on to less pleasant matters." The king leaned back in his chair, fixing the man with a stare that reminded even Alanna that he was a ruler, the Voice, and a force to be reckoned with. "We were of the understanding that, in the event of you needing to make a quick exit from Carthak, that Emperor Ozorne would hardly be of the inclination to let you leave easily. Would you care to explain to us how you were able to depart from your Emperor's side so smoothly?"

Arram gave a dry laugh. "'Smoothly'?" he echoed somewhat scornfully. "I don't believe that is the correct term, Majesty."

"And what would the correct term be, Master Draper?"

"Painfully? Strenuously? Problematically? The list may go on, Majesty, but 'smoothly' would hardly be present."

"You dare to speak to me in such a way? With jests and derision?" Arram's gaze dropped to where he was nervously plucking at his already-tattered clothing, and he didn't see one side of the king's mouth twitch. "You may call me Jon."

Arram's head whipped back toward the ruler. "Majesty?"

"No, Jon. You see from the two sitting on either side of you that I have a certain weakness for those who dare speak their minds around me, without the filter of constant remembrance that I am the king. I respect such people, and value their opinions. In the spirit of that understanding, I ask that you call me by my given name."

"Yes, sir. Jon, that is," Arram rapidly corrected himself. Alanna was the only one who could see the fine trembling in his hands.

Alanna frowned as she sat forward, studying Arram more intensely than she had since figuring out his identity. Sure enough, her close gaze was enough to ascertain that he was losing color, and at a rate that surely boded ill for the man. "Jon," she called, interrupting whatever the king and Arram were talking about at the moment. Wanting to spare the man's feelings, she met Jon's inquisitive gaze and said hintingly, "I think we could do with some refreshments, don't you?"

Jon's eyes casually drifted back to Arram as he nodded thoughtfully. "I know I could. Please send for some items of appropriate nature to be delivered here as soon as possible."

Alanna went to the door and quietly ordered that tea be brought, along with cakes, cold water, and a bowl of the heartiest chicken soup that the kitchens had on hand. By the time she returned, Arram was speaking freely with the king.

"-we had a plan in place, but there was no warning whatsoever. I was leaving the university's library one evening and I was detained by several guards. They refused to even disclose the charges that were being brought against me, but the next thing I knew, I was put into Ozorne's dungeons."

"Yes, that is the part I would like to discuss with you," Jon said, studying the man with a mixture of sympathy and pleading. "If there is anything you could tell us about the Emperor's dungeons, the information would be greatly appreciated."

Arram winced. "I'll tell you everything I can, but to be honest, I don't remember much. Ozorne uses a type of drugged smoke in his dungeons to keep his prisoners from fighting back too much, and it also prevents prisoners from noticing very much."

There was a brief pause while the food came in. Alanna, George, and Jon all pretended not to notice how desperately Arram seized the bowl of soup, or how quickly he devoured it, drinking three glasses of water besides. When he had finished, Jon continued as though there had never been an interruption.

"Even just the detail about the smoke is more than we knew before. Is there anything else you can remember?"

"Unfortunately, I only remember the smoke and how large the windows in the cells were. I do think I would be able to draw you a rough layout of the dungeons and their location in relation to the palace. Do you have some paper nearby?"

Jon eagerly slid a small stack of paper over to Arram, who began to mark the paper even as he nibbled at one of the cakes. Alanna, curious about what Arram had said about the windows, asked, "Why would you particularly remember what size the windows were? Surely they weren't big enough for you to escape through."

"Of course not," he answered, not looking up from the shape taking form on the paper. "There's no way a man of my size could fit through a dungeon window."

"I feel like I'm missin' somethin'," George said. "How exactly did you manage to escape, Arram?"

"I had a few tricks up my sleeve," the man hummed absently. "I am a fully-trained mage, you know."

"So you did finish school!" Alanna was inexplicably pleased by this. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Arram responded politely. "It would mean a lot more if I hadn't been violently expelled from the country which awarded me the magehood, but it is an achievement regardless."

"Did you use some kind of dark magic to escape Ozorne's dungeons?" George asked, voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone.

Arram sighed. "No. If you must know, I learned through academic study that humans could take on the shape of an animal if one's mind is advanced and disciplined enough. After the first time one of my friends was arrested under suspicion of treason, I decided that a quick getaway method might not be the worst idea, and put my focus toward learning this particular skill. After much practice and dedication, I learned to transform into a slightly oversized hawk. Luckily for me, the windows are large enough so that I could fly through one, though it was a bit of a close call for a moment or two."

With a flourish, he turned the paper around and slid it across the desk to Jon. "Your map, King Jon." He returned his attention to the obviously still curious George and Alanna. "From there, I used all of my available funds to secure passage to Tortall, and I've since been working in street markets and circuses to get the money needed to move me closer to Corus."

"This is wonderful!" Jon exclaimed, setting a protective hand against the drawing. "I'm going to take this to the proper people and make sure that it's well-recorded and taken to the right places." He stood and was halfway to the door before any of his guests could blink. He paused to glance back at them. "I have some rather urgent matters to take care of after this, so George, Alanna, feel free to return to Pirate's Swoop if you'd rather. I won't have time to meet with you for at least a month. Master Draper, you may do as you'd please."

Before he could leave, Arram's soft voice cut through his excited chatter. "I was offered protection. When Alanna and George left Carthak, they offered me your protection, but I would be satisfied if you would simply agree not to turn me over to Ozorne."

Jon stopped immediately, closing the door and turning around so that he could speak to the Carthaki mage face-to-face. "Arram," he started in what Thayet and Alanna called his 'gentle' voice. "You will most definitely have my protection. More than that, in fact, if it is what you wish. As someone with an intimate knowledge of the Carthaki courts and political system, you are an invaluable ally and I would gladly offer you a place in my board of advisors." Arram was speechless and the king hastened to add, "You would be compensated handsomely, of course. You would have a space to live, the opportunity for further study, access to my own personal libraries and all that they contain. I will not force you, however. In either case, you have the protection of Tortall."

Arram stood and stuck out a hand to the king. "King Jonathan of Tortall, nothing would please me more than to be on your board of advisors. I might not know much about the internal affairs of Ozorne's court, but what I do know, I will gladly share."

King Jon firmly shook Arram's outstretched hand. "I am beyond pleased to hear it, Arram Draper. One final question before I go deliver your sketch: do you have any idea what made Ozorne decide that you were worthy of suspicion?"

Abruptly, Arram's face went from pleased to saddened. "I told only one person about my involvement in the departure of the Tortallans - other than Lindhall, of course. My… friend, Varice Kingsford asked what had happened and if I knew everything. We were close, and she caught me in a moment of weakness." He shook his head slowly back and forth. "Ozorne must have done something terrible to make her reveal that information."

Privately, Alanna thought Varice would give up Arram's secrets without much convincing. She seemed willing to do much in order to be in the Emperor's good graces. Shaking herself from this line of thought, Alanna said, "Jon, you should give Arram the tower, the one near Pirate's Swoop."

"My tower?" he repeated questioningly.

"Yeah, you know the one," George said. "You're never gonna get around to fixin' it up, so it may as well go to someone who would put the work into makin' it livable. It's not doin' any good sittin' there crumblin'."

"I was going to fix it up… As soon as things were settled with…" Jon sighed, giving in. "Very well. Master Draper, I would be most pleased to offer you the tower just east of George and Alanna's home in Pirate's Swoop. If you should need any help with repairs, please let me know and I will gladly give you any assistance you require."

Arram graciously accepted and Jon left to deliver the sketch of the dungeons to the proper departments. As he told Arram, it was the greatest breakthrough in Carthaki intelligence that Tortall had ever experienced.

After Jon had left, Alanna rose from her chair and stretched. "Arram, if you would like, you could come with George and I back to Pirate's Swoop. You can see your new property and stay with us for as long as it takes to fix it up. It's a couple of days' ride from here, but it's all over easy terrain with fantastic views."

Arram gave a wry smile and gestured down at himself. "I believe I would do nothing more than slow you both down."

Alanna waved this off. "Nonsense. We have to travel a bit more slowly than usual anyway. On the ride here, George hurt his… hip. Makes riding a little difficult."

"Yes," George agreed slowly, raising an eyebrow at Alanna when Arram wasn't watching. "I hurt my hip. On the easy ride down here. I am gettin' old, you know. Very old, not to mention delicate. I have to be gentle on myself afore I get too damaged."

"Ah," Arram said uncomfortably. "In that case, I will be ready to depart when you are." The mage excused himself and retreated to the hall.

When he had left, George turned to Alanna, eyebrows in danger of getting lost in his hairline. "My hip? I hurt my hip?" he asked, voice full of disbelieving laughter.

Alanna shrugged. "I needed a good reason we would be riding slowly. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

"Is that so?" he asked, easing closer to loom over her with a dark look in his eyes. Alanna's heart sped up and her mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with fear. "Well maybe, my Lioness, I need to prove that I'm remarkably fit for my advanced age."

"Or," she said, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him from getting closer, "We could start back to the Swoop before the rest of the afternoon passes. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be back."

George sighed and rested his forehead against Alanna's, effectively dispelling the tension. "It seems like we've been runnin' from crisis to crisis long as we've known each other, and sometimes, I feel like you're grateful for that." His eyes opened, staring into hers as the earlier heat returned. "But darlin', someday and someday soon, it'll be just the two of us and we'll start workin' on these walls of yours."

Alanna couldn't think of a good response as he kissed her on the forehead and went to tell the servants to ready the horses.

* * *

Four days later, the three arrived at Pirate's Swoop. They had stopped for a few hours to see the tower Jon had given to Arram, but there had been no need to stay longer. Arram had glanced around the place and decided that he needed to build up his stores of magic before attempting to do anything with it.

Their arrival back home was anticlimactic. With a few words about plans to meet again later that night, all went in separate directions. Arram moved toward the section of the castle they had set aside as his rooms. George spoke with the right people about getting each of them water for a bath and someone to cut Arram's hair. Alanna, on the other hand, started making preparations for dinner.

She and George had noticed that Arram had trouble with the rich meal Jon had served them before they left, so they had stuck to the basics on the ride. For dinner that night, she ordered roasted chicken, lightly-seasoned rice, and steamed vegetables, to be served alongside the lightest, crispest wine that could be found in the Swoop's cellar.

After everyone - bathed and changed - had eaten their fill, they moved to George's cozy study. Alanna saw with some satisfaction that Arram had begun recovering from his long months on the road, looking far more like the healthy young man they knew in Carthak.

When they were all seated in large leather armchairs - stereotypical, but George loved them - George started with, "Now, let's talk protection strategies. First thing is your name."

"My name?" Arram repeated.

Alanna flashed her husband a look. "Yes, unfortunately. It's a very uncommon name, especially in Tortall, and we're worried it might attract unwanted attention. Do you have any particular attachment to it?"

"No… not really, anyway. It's just my mother and I with it, and she would rather I change my name than be caught and thrown back in the Carthaki dungeons. But what would fit in more?"

Turning to look pointedly at her husband, Alanna said, "I wouldn't know. George, you're the one with the experience in underground dealings. What would be a more under-the-radar name?"

George sat back in his chair and began theatrically tapping his fingers against the buttery leather. "How about... Florian Feathersworthy?"

Alanna snorted. Arram, looking relieved that he wasn't seriously suggesting the name, just shook his head. Undeterred, George threw out another, "Eustace Bucketman."

"No," Alanna and Arram rejected in unison.

George looked disappointed. "Really? I put some thought into that one."

"I'm sorry, George," Arram apologized, looking contrite, "but I don't feel that would fit well into Tortallan culture either."

"He's just messing with you. It's the Player in him. He can't help it," Alanna excused.

The Player in question began firing off names faster than any of them could keep up. "Gaylord Nillychild. Ulysses Hartparker. Eugene Rotmarket." Abruptly, he leapt to his feet, knocking the heavy armchair back nearly a foot in his excitement. He swept an elaborate bow and said flourishingly, "Master Numair Salmalín, powerful mage of King Jonathan's court."

Alanna raised an eyebrow while Arram stroked his freshly-shaved face. "That's actually not bad."

"Your surprise wounds me, but you're welcome to it, long as you don't mind bearin' a name thought up by the world's only ex-Rogue."

Alanna rolled her eyes while Arram looked confused. "How can you be the only ex-Rogue?"

"It's a job most can't walk away from, innit? At least, without a blade twixt their ribs," George said with a conspiratorial wink.

"So, Numair Salmalín…" Alanna drew out. "Fairly good."

"Yes, but it doesn't fit in here any better than Arram Draper did."

"No, but maybe that's a good thing," Alanna mused. "Most of the mages I know think they're far better than everyone else, especially the ones who know a lot. By giving yourself this name, people will be more apt to think you're covering up for a plain name rather than completely changing identities."

Arram smiled wryly. "I wish I could argue that point, but I've known too many mages who are full of themselves."

"And think, you didn't even get to know King Jon's cousin!" George crowed. "Now, that was a mage who thought he was the greatest gift on earth."

"Dark pasts aside," Alanna interrupted, "We need to talk about the basics. You'll begin using your new name right away. I'll let the king know to introduce you using it." As she spoke, the Lioness began to pace. "Going from the Accords set by the emperor before Ozorne, a prisoner may only be lawfully pursued for five years. From what you say, it's been nearly one since you escaped the dungeons."

Arram stared at her disbelievingly while George started laughing outright. "Darlin', there's never a time limit on catchin' an escaped criminal."

"But the Accords say-"

"I know what you think they say, but let me tell you what they actually say: Ozorne can use his armies and contacts as much as he wants in the next four years to openly pursue Numair here," he patted the younger man on the shoulder and winked. "But when that time is up, he can still chase him down, he just has to use stealthier means."

Alanna was outraged. "But why even make that a law if you're not going to follow it?! Surely if the emperor is half so important as he believes himself to be, he could rewrite it or strike it from the books altogether!"

"No, he would never," the newly-named Numair said quietly. "Ozorne sees himself as a merciful king, always gracious in his dealings with his countrymen. To change that particular law would mean he had to acknowledge his true nature, and he isn't prepared to do that."

There was an uncomfortable silence at that while everyone tried to think of something tactful to say. Alanna was the first to give up. "Well, thank the Goddess, Jon is the only one who should have to deal with him from now on. None of us are politicians. There's no reason any of us should need to see the Emperor again."

Numair seemed comforted by this and soon admitted that he was more than ready to retire to his rooms for the evening. Before he left, however, he stopped to gaze seriously at Alanna and George. "I cannot begin to express the depth of gratitude I have toward you both. You saved me when no one else would have and now have extended me the offer of a home. If there is any way I could begin to repay-"

"We're square," George interrupted. "You saved our lives too, or don't you remember Carthak?" With a crooked grin, he added, "Though, if you have any leftover gratitude, you could stop usin' such big words."

"It's a deal," Numair agreed with a shy smile before he left the study and started toward his own rooms.

When he had gone, Alanna let out a contented sigh and settled back against the chair she was curled in, closing her eyes in bliss. "I'm so glad we were able to keep our promise to help him out."

George gave a deep, rumbling laugh and Alanna felt him looming over her. "Don't get too comfortable, my Lioness," he warned, leaning down to grab the armrests of her chair. "I have some promises of my own I'd like to keep."

* * *

Author's Note \- Apologies! I just love George and Alanna as a couple and had to include a bit of light fluff in this story. Also, I know I'm posting this a bit later than intended, but the third and final chapter will still be going up tomorrow. Life got in the way, blah, blah, blah, you don't know me enough to care about any of this. In any case, thanks for reading and drop a review if you feel like it. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you soon!


	3. Chapter Three

**Meeting The Mage**

 _Disclaimer:_ I do not own the rights to Numair, Alanna, etc. The situation and all characters belong to Tamora Pierce. Only the details are my own.

* * *

Chapter Three

Alanna marched into the meeting room, chin held at a defiant angle as her eyes flashed purple fire at anyone who looked at her twice. This was the first Advisor's Meeting she had attended since giving birth to the twins. George and Jon had attempted to convince her that staying in Pirate's Swoop was the far wiser option, but Alanna had put her foot down. These meetings happened so rarely that she hadn't been to one in nearly two years. The twins were old enough to be cared for by a nursemaid, and Alanna had set her mind on traveling to Corus - with or without the approval and subsequent company of her husband.

George, to his credit, had recognized this as something she needed to do and given in, joining her on the trip and convincing her to make it one day longer for additional resting time. He had always been good at finding out when she was pushing herself too far.

In any case, it was with many a disapproving stare that Alanna entered the meeting room, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. She had been looked down upon for most of her life for one reason or another. These few cranky men meant little to her, especially since they were almost exclusively the ones Jon had been forced to appoint to his group of advisors. It was with no shame whatsoever that she strode over, pulled out a chair, and eased down, staring at her detractors expectantly. No one said a word.

A few moments later, Numair came to the door, glancing around the room until his dark eyes rested on Alanna. Face warming with the recognition, admiration, and respect that came with their more than five-year friendship, the mage made his way across the rapidly-filling room to sit in one of the chairs next to her.

"Well, Lioness, it has been a while," he greeted affectionately. "How are the cubs?"

She groaned. "If you knew how many times people have made that joke, you would be ashamed of yourself. My _children_ are fine, thank you for asking."

"My apologies, Lady Knight," Numair said, giving a graceful bow, even while seated. "I am pleased to hear that your children are well. And how is their mother? No one has heard from you for quite a long time."

"Thank my wonderful husband for that. If I had my way, I would have been back doing whatever Jon needed from me, but George insisted I take at least six months to recover fully and make sure the twins have everything they need to grow up healthy."

Numair shrugged. "Children are a blessing not to be taken lightly."

"I know," Alanna sighed. "It's just that I swore an oath when I became a knight, so my first duty is to Tortall, above everything else. I don't like neglecting my obligations, even for something as important as family."

Whatever Numair's reply might have been, it never came. Instead, Alanna settled back comfortably as he was assaulted by the same men who had scorned her, asking for his advice on various matters as well as quite a few favors. It seemed everyone had something to say to Numair. All of the topics were trivial, but the important thing seemed to be that they made contact with him.

"Hey, darlin'," George greeted as he dropped into the chair on Alanna's other side. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before watching Numair's proceedings with a grin. "It's good to see him gettin' along so well with all of Jon's advisors."

He had summed up exactly what Alanna had been thinking, but she still scoffed loudly. "Goddess bless! Give a man a black robe and suddenly he's the most important person in all of Tortall."

Numair smirked, but continued his conversation with the slowly-reddening Lord Doshkin. Meanwhile, a figure leaned against the other side of their table. Lazily, Jon crossed his arms. "Doesn't matter a bit to me. It makes a wonderful change for the previous 'most important person in Tortall'."

Alanna grinned up at the king. "That was one ego burst that needed to happen."

"How's it goin', Jon?" George asked when he had finished laughing at the look on the king's face.

Jon groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. "About like it always is, I suppose. Secondary meeting tomorrow, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," Alanna replied quietly.

It had long been the tradition to have advisor's meetings on two separate days. On the first day, everyone would crowd into the meeting room to talk over each other and argue while Jon desperately tried to sum up everything that had happened in Tortall as well as everything that needed to happen in the coming months. After much complaining, tasks would be doled out to advisors who got offended when theirs wasn't the most important job, and finally, everyone would leave dissatisfied and complaining.

The secondary meeting, however, was when the real business was taken care of. A core group of advisors - ones not appointed from necessity or for treaty reasons - would discreetly convene in Jon's personal office and discuss the things that actually needed to be completed. These were the meetings which decided the true fate of Tortall, dealing mostly with matters of national security or tasks of importance beyond what the pompous 'advisors' could possibly comprehend. The secondary meeting was the only reason Alanna was currently in Corus.

With an impressive display of restraint, Alanna managed not to shout at anyone in the primary meeting - though how much of this restraint was due to George distracting her, no one could honestly say. Regardless of the method, the primary meeting ended without incident and everyone retired to the dining hall for the traditional Advisor's Feast, a waste of resources if Alanna had ever seen one, but the only time she had moved to abolish it was also the only time a sincere effort had been made to remove her from the council. She had reluctantly let the feast stand as a necessary evil.

The next day, all of the usual people gathered in Jon's office: Onua Chamtong, Buri Tourakom, Sarge, Thayet, Jon, Alanna, George, and Numair. There were several others who occasionally joined them, but it was only by invitation of the king, and it seemed he had no need of any special services today.

"As you know," Jon started off, a grave look in his eyes, "the threats against Tortall are becoming more and more common, especially from the direction of Carthak. We have even received intelligence that some of our own countrymen might be siding with - and spying for - our enemies. There are several people who need to be investigated, but the most daunting of these is Lord Sinthya." King Jonathan stared intently around the room. "He is a noble, and extremely proud. That particular investigation will have to be handled delicately, but with utmost caution: he has an entire estate filled with servants who may or may not be loyal to his cause. They may help him struggle against our agents."

"I'll go," Numair volunteered calmly.

Jon studied the mage carefully. "Are you certain? It could be quite dangerous."

One corner of Numair's mouth lifted. "I'm highly trained, have spent extensive time in courts and around nobles, and, as I'm sure you recall, I have a singular way to deal with being detained. I'm the obvious choice."

"Very well," Jon agreed.

"But are you absolutely sure, Numair?" Alanna asked, looking at her friend with mock sternness. "It seems like the kind of thing that would cut into your time with the females."

Numair reddened visibly, but said stiffly, "I won't dignify that with a response."

"I don't think there is a response to that," Buri laughed. "From everything I hear, you make your way around the women of the court."

Looking disgusted, Sarge cleared his throat. "Important mission? Possibility of death? Anyone? Could we get back on topic, please?"

When the resulting chuckling had died down, Jon continued. "There is a specific mission to go along with this, but I want to issue a general warning about the reports we've heard lately. Usually, they come from small towns, forests, sparsely-populated locations, but we've received a number of reports of… well, of monsters in Tortall."

This statement was met with blank stares and utter silence. The king nodded in sympathy with their stunned silence. "I know what you must be thinking, but we have done everything in our power to verify these claims."

"Have any bodies of these supposed monsters been found?" Alanna asked.

"Not yet, but there have been an unusually high number of traveler deaths lately, and their recovered bodies display wounds unlike anything we have ever encountered."

"Surely there's an explanation…" Onua trailed, looking uncertain despite the strong words.

"Unfortunately, one has yet to be found," Jon admitted. "Right now, all we have are the mutilated bodies, tales from frightened townspeople, and a few who are talking about ancient legends, but the interesting part is that all of these stories corroborate. The description of the creatures seems to be fairly uniform as well as different qualities. I will try to contact each of you with a completed list as soon as one is compiled, but for now, I just warn you to travel carefully and keep a close watch on your surroundings."

"Now, as for specifics: Thayet, Buri, and Sarge, I want the three of you to meet with me next Tuesday night at seven to discuss what we know about the creatures and how we need to adapt the training we give the next Rider group. Onua, you can join in if you would like, but I would strongly advise for you to speak to some of the magic teachers to hone your skills in protective spells and defensive magic. Numair, I assume that you know how to handle trouble if you come across it, but i would appreciate your help in possibly identifying these creatures before you leave for your investigation of Lord Sinthya. Perhaps you've read something in an obscure book that might prove to be helpful.

"Finally, Alanna and George, you two are free to return home as soon as you wish, but I would prefer if you would join Onua in a quick lesson on protective and defensive magic. You two will be the first ones in this group to travel any distance, and your close observation of your surroundings would be highly appreciated, as well as a report of anything strange you might see. Alanna, I will have a mission for you in several months, likely to travel and search for these creatures, as well as help with any of the investigations. If you feel well enough, of course."

Alanna frowned. "Why would I not be healthy enough? Do you know of an illness that's supposed to strike?"

"Well, you have just delivered a set of twins..." Jon said uncomfortably.

"Seriously?" Alanna could feel her face growing red as she wrestled with her temper. Even George's hand on hers wasn't enough to keep her calm. "It's been an entire year! Besides, I gave birth to children. It's not like I lost a limb. I'm plenty healed up, and I'm more than willing to challenge anyone who has any doubts about my regained strength."

"No, no doubts," Jon denied hurriedly, shuffling the papers in his hands rather than meet her flashing purple gaze. "That should be all of the current events. Thank you all, and as usual, Goddess bless. Stay safe out there."

Alanna stewed for a moment while everyone slowly rose and began to scatter, chatting to each other about their missions and the best way to accomplish them. When George's hand patting began to truly wear on Alanna's nerves, she stood and stormed off to the room where they had stayed the previous night. Somewhat predictably, George rushed in only moments after she had flopped down across the bed. She threw an arm over her eyes so that she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Alanna," George said, voice softer than anything. "I'm sorry you're not havin' a good day, but I can't seem to understand it. You know Jon is just worried about you, makin' sure he's not dependin' on you too much before you're ready to be depended on."

"But he shouldn't be!" she burst out. "Jon has to depend on me like he would a male Champion or there isn't any reason to have me instead of anyone else. If he feels like I can't be trusted to take care of his needs right now, maybe I should just step down as Champion and let him pick someone else." She gave a dry laugh. "His advisors would love that."

"Now, that doesn't sound like the Lioness I know." The new voice was enough to make Alanna turn and prop herself up as she watched Thayet enter the room. The queen looked beautiful and put-together, as always, but disappointment shone in her eyes. "Since when has the famed Lady Knight of Tortall developed such extreme self-doubt?"

"Since her King decided he can't turn to her in his time of need," she said grumpily.

Thayet shook her head. "Alanna, you know that isn't true. May I speak frankly?"

Alanna stared at her in stony silence while George nodded fervently. Thayet ignored Alanna and began talking anyway. "I know why Jon is so reluctant to give you a mission and it has nothing to do with his level of trust for you." She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Did anyone ever tell you that I had trouble with Kalasin?"

Alanna scooched up slightly to make room for Thayet even as she shook her head. The queen nodded. "It's true. Kalasin's birth was a difficult one, and it took me quite a while to recover fully. Jon is a little skittish at the moment, but if you will just give him time to understand that you are fine and that you didn't struggle the way I did, you will go right back to being his most important ally in this country. I will speak to him as well, but I ask for some of your limited patience while I work."

Feeling oddly ashamed of herself - something she hadn't felt in an extremely long time - Alanna agreed. Just then, a knock rang through the room and Numair stuck his head in. "Does everyone know where we're stayin'?" George grumbled, but the sparkle in his eyes showed his lack of ire at their mage friend.

"Am I interrupting something?" Numair asked, dark eyes taking in the room and its inhabitants.

"Not at all," Thayet said graciously, sliding off the bed and onto her feet. "I was just leaving. Thank you, George and Alanna, for being willing to listen to me."

The two conveyed their thanks for her insight as Numair moved further into the room. "I just thought I would stop by and make sure everything was as it should be. It is, correct?"

"Yes," Alanna replied. "A little uneasy about this mission you're going on, but otherwise, everyone is doing perfectly well."

Numair laughed. "Still babying me, Alanna?"

She shrugged. "Force of habit."

"You're goin' to do just fine," George soothed, doing his best to assure everyone in the room. "Sinthya is a shrewd old goat, but as long as you're there on orders of the king, he won't question anythin' you have to say. You'll be able to do as much investigatin' as you want, long as he don't actually catch you at it."

"I'm not worried," Numair said, voice full of self-confidence. "If I managed to sneak out of Carthak under the noses of Ozorne's police force, I should be able to find evidence of involvement with Carthak without much trouble."

"Cockiness is-"

"You'd better watch yourself," George interrupted, cutting short what was sure to have been a legendary lecture. "Bein' too sure of yourself is enough to get even the best man killed."

"Of course," Numair sighed apologetically. "I thank you both for your concern. It is... odd, but touching."

"Anytime," George said with a grin.

"Just watch your back," Alanna advised. "If I have to come marching in there to save you, I will hold it over your head until both of us are long into our old age."

"It is a deal. Thank you both again, and stay safe."

"Stay safe," George and Alanna echoed, watching Numair Salmalín depart from the room without a backward glance.

* * *

Author's Note \- Well, that's it! My take on Numair's origins, only months(?) before the official version is published. Thanks for reading along and I hope you enjoyed!


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